


see right through my walls

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Connor Deserves Happiness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Evan Helps Connor Deal, Fluff, M/M, Vague Mentions of Self-Harm, even though he's a huge Dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-09 13:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11105730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Evan came forward to support him, “Hi, hey,” he carefully held Connor’s forearms, “you just climbed through my window.”“Your perception is through the fuckin’ roof, Hansen,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the kick flipping Bart Simpson on his hoodie, “it’s motherfuckin’ supernatural.”He kind of tightened his hold, praying he wouldn’t start spiraling, because something was definitely wrong here, “No, I just, I mean you could’ve FaceTimed or e-mailed or something—not that I don’t want you here, I do—“✦connor comes to evan's house at 2:17 am and they hash some things out.





	see right through my walls

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly- I don't know. I'm actually real proud of the characterization? Like, I thought it would be a bit hard for me because I'm not used to this kind of dynamic, but it was familiar somehow?? I did this as sort of an exercise in a new kind of person I don't really write n i lk like it. y'boy Connor got that IED but he's Trying.
> 
> title's a lyric from Christina Perri's Arms because i'm lame.

The ramble of voices in his head had just started going quiet, had finally just let him go to sleep, when there was a thump at his window. Evan jumped, going completely hot and cold.

It was a robber, right?

No, God, worse, a _murderer,_ some dude dressed all in black was about to come into his room with a meat cleaver and just—

Were those footsteps?

He pulled the blanket tighter over his head, because his sheets were made of Teflon and could deflect a sharpened blade, obviously, straining his hearing in an effort to ignore the creaks in the hallway that were probably just the air conditioner booting back up, but definitely did not rule out the chance of there being a _second murderer—_

Another thump, more a tap now that he was listening, and a familiar call of his name. He waited a second before peeking out, craning his neck toward the stream of moonlight coming in through his window. The dramatic shadow of the oak in his backyard wasn’t actually that scary. It comforted him, weirdly. ‘Course, it did this more often when there wasn’t the silhouette of a person perched on one of the branches. After his brain caught up with his eyes and registered the sheer tall-ness coupled with the mess of hair could only add up to one person throwing rocks at his window at…

He glanced at his alarm clock, _2:17_ _am._

Evan rolled out of bed, damning cold floors everywhere, then picking up an EAT MY SHORTS hoodie he’d adopted after Jared left it and never came back, claiming it was ‘ _Probably full of_ [REDACTED BECAUSE: disgusting] _from you two_ [REDACTED BECAUSE: dude, why] _constantly_ ’. He made sure at the last second he was still wearing boxers before pushing the window up.

Connor was sitting cowboy-style on one of the thicker branches a few feet from Evan’s window, his hoodie zipped up at the bottom to hold his ammunition, not looking like he’d actually put a shirt on under it. One smooth pebble was actually poised to be shot in his hand.

Evan yelped and fell into a crouch, ducking his head, “Don’t throw that! I’m here, I’m here!”

When he came back up, Connor was dropping it on the ground with the rest. Evan was analyzing him on instinct, trying to gauge whatever was wrong with him even with the distance. He didn’t look hurt, at least physically. 

“Connor, what the hell?”

He shrugged, which really did _not_ help the little prickle at the back of Evan’s neck reminding him how far up the tree was with no safety. He put one foot up on the ledge, “Could you— Just— Please come in. I’m getting the bad feeling right now.”

“Okay,” he shimmied closer until the branch was too thin and Evan held out a hand that he took. Evan pulled him in, moving himself out of the way as Connor jumped feet first into his room, stumbling.

Evan came forward to support him, “Hi, hey,” he carefully held Connor’s forearms, “you just climbed through my window.”

“Your perception is through the fuckin’ roof, Hansen,” he mumbled, eyes glued to the kick flipping Bart Simpson on his hoodie, “it’s motherfuckin’ supernatural.”

He kind of tightened his hold, praying he wouldn’t start spiraling, because something was definitely wrong here, “No, I just, I mean you could’ve FaceTimed or e-mailed or something—not that I don’t want you here, I do—“

“My dad threw my phone out ‘cause I was texting my dealer.”

“Oh,” he nodded, hyper-aware Connor was trailing his fingers at the bend of his arm, “Sorr—“

“Evan.” He lowered his head so his forehead was resting on Evan’s hairline. His eyes were still open but unfocused, dark.

He took a reassuring breath, tugging at his arms, “You’re not here because of that, though, right?”

Conno shook his head, the longer bits of his bangs tickling Evan’s nose.

_He’s here to break up with you._

An oily snake of doubt was coiling itself around the base of his spine.

_He is. He’ll drop it at any moment, then he’ll leave and never talk to you again._

Evan told himself to shut up, not quite realizing he had mouthed it until Connor gave an odd chuckle, “It’s not about you, Evan.”

“Right,” he winced at how loud his voice came, averting his eyes, “sorry, yeah, you wouldn’t be here if it was about me. You wouldn’t do that.”

Evan let go of one arm, hovering his hand near Connor’s face, because he really wanted to tuck that curl behind his hear but didn’t want to assume he’d be okay with actual touching right now. He was actually going to ask before Connor kind of leaned into his palm.

A warm and fuzzy feeling floated through his chest, mixing weirdly with the ever-present worry. Like hot chocolate made with curdled milk.

“What…” Evan swept his thumb over Connor’s high cheekbone, “Why’re you here, then?”

He lifted and dropped his shoulders again, now just kind of sagging against Evan’s hand.

“Are you okay?”

Connor stuck his tongue between his teeth, “Okay’s an abstract concept.”

Evan knew this mood. He had a doctorate’s degree in this mood.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm, the president doesn’t believe in global warming, the bees are dying, pretty sure my backpack has two days left to live before the entire bottom—“

“Connor,” he bumped his head up so they were level, “talk to me. Please.”

He started going rigid, “I don’t need the third degree right now, Evan.”

“I know, I know,” he tried to talk fast before they passed the Point of No Return, “I’m not trying to, I just think it might be better to talk, because—“

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he pulled away completely, starting to back up, “I fucking—I knew you’d want to talk and all that shit. But, fuck, I had nowhere else to go and I couldn’t—“

Evan stayed planted in his spot, motioning with his hands while he talked, “Hey, that’s fine, we don’t have to—“

“No,” his voice simmered, just starting to ram up into the anger spectrum, “you want to fucking talk, right?”

“I mean, not any _more_ , obviously,” Evan blurted.

 _Wow, very_ intelligent _, Evan Hansen, gold_ star _._

Connor pulled his sweater sleeve down even though it was already bunched up at his wrist and that insignificant movement set the alarms in Evan’s brain _off._ Jesus Christ, not _now._

His lip was twitching dangerously, “Not any _more?_ Okay. I get it— _“_

Evan folded his arms, refraining from reaching out, “No, no, Connor, that’s not what I meant and know it.“

“But you said it. And you usually mean what you say.”

“No _,_ just that, okay, you don’t want to talk,” he was gesturing wildly to try and give himself something else to think about but Connor kept his hand over his wrist and Evan couldn’t stop glancing at it, “we won’t talk, I was just saying because I think it would help you with whatever it is if we did—“

“I don’t fucking _need_ your help, Evan,” he turned his back on Evan, “I’m not your fucking pity project.”

He took a step because Connor couldn’t see him, “You’re not—I never said you were—“

He threw the hand he wasn’t pulling at up, the tops of some Hello Kitty bandages just visible, “The implications are pretty fucking clear.”

_Check the other one._

_He broke your promise. C’mon, can’t you tell?_

“Connor, _listen_ to me—“

“I’m hearin’ you loud and clear—“ _Tug, tug._

“You obviously aren’t—“ _Do it, check, Evan, Evan, check—_

_—no, he didn’t do it—_

Connor started walking, “I shouldn’t have come, I’m leaving.“

_Tug, tug, tug, tug._

_He usually rolls up his sleeves._

Shut up.

_He didn’t care about people seeing._

“Shut up _,_ ” and thank God it was a whisper, but his room was small, and Connor heard.

He kind of froze and turned back, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he rubbed the hem of the hoodie between his fingers, taking deep breaths, “nothing.”

_Ask him._

“Evan—“ and he looked about ready to ask some hypocritical questions, but

_Tug._

_Check._

_Check, godammit._

“Connor,” he scratched at his ear, pointing at the air around Connor, “show me your arms.”

“Jesus _Christ,”_ he barked a laugh, “ _seriously?”_

He fanned his hand out near the side of his head, shutting and opening his eyes, “No, it’s not— it’s just, I _need_ to see, because the feeling—“

“Are you fucking _kidding_ me, Evan?” He scoffed, hands curling into fists, “Why are you constantly doubting me? Why can’t you just fucking _trust_ me—“

“Because _I care about you,_ ” and it was actually great his mom was working an overnight sift because he shouted it, chest heaving. “I didn’t, I’m _not_ _doubting you_ , but I have to check because I—I need to know you haven’t hurt yourself or anything because I _care_ about you, okay, and—and my mind goes bad places and I don’t trust _myself_ with those calls, okay? I—I need the reassurance, so, so,” he swiped his hands on his leg, opening and closing them when he held them out, “just give me your arms.”

Connor still looked angry, but more a cross of shock and discontentment. That small stitch between his eyebrows was totally worry though, right?

At least the thing holding back from not immediately punching Evan.

He begrudgingly came forward, dropping his arms in Evan’s hands. Evan made an attempt to look at him while he rolled up his sleeves.

All different kinds of bandages from all different times, some regular, others printed with cartoon characters. His left arm had gauge wrapped around the middle from an unintentionally deep cut, the one that had prompted their pact in the first place.

There was extremely minimal lighting but Evan could still spot the very beginning of one, like he’d started and stopped. That was enough for Evan to breath again, but not enough for his heart to stop pounding in his ears.

He stopped attempting, ducking and straightening so Connor would actually look him in the eye, “Can we talk now?”

Connor nodded with the same sentiment he had given Evan his arms with. Still, he let Evan pull him to sit on the bed.

He let out an explosive, “ _God,”_ before smacking an arm out across Evan’s chest and pushing them both back against the mattress.

Evan made a noise of surprise before tilting his head in Connor’s direction. He’d assumed a position on his side, one hand out, which Evan took, lacing their fingers together before reaching behind him to turn on his lamp.

The soft yellow light made Connor look even more tired, if that was possible. His hair was all trapped under his head, coming up in stubborn wisps around his face. The brown patch on in his left iris was more defined. Evan’s heart was doing a lowkey Olympic layout behind his ribs.

He finally struck the correct question to ask.

“What happened, Connor?”

He was chewing at the inside of his cheek, rolling completely on his back but still holding Evan’s hand. He squeezed it a bit.

“My dad was chewing me out for the dealer thing after dinner,” he played with one of the drawstrings of his sweater, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on Evan’s ceiling, “and I didn’t really give a shit, standard fare.”

“Yeah, well, old man was on a short fuse ‘cause Mom was still trying to convince him to go with her on a trip to visit some Buddhist temples or some shit during the long weekend, and there’s that problem in his job he can’t fucking deal with, remember? And he had a few beers while we ate, so he was at his Pissed Capacity. He comes upstairs and I could see the damn horns on his head, Evan. He just comes in, grabs my phone from my desk, like not even in my goddamn _hand_ , and he chucks it into the hallway and starts ticking off all the usuals, y’know, my hair, my attitude, Zoe’s superiority.

“I was reading your comic, so I ignored what was happening ‘cause I knew he just needed someone to bitch at and I’m the goddamn sacrificial lamb in that house. I nodded along and shit, and he didn’t really notice I wasn’t paying attention until I turned the page.”

The angry twitch at his mouth was starting up again, eyes narrowing, “My dad took a swing at me.”

In the history of Connor’s problems with his parents, at least in Evan’s knowledge, they had never so much as threatened to hit him. There were ‘you’re gonna get it’s or ‘so help me’s but never a literal threat to it.

Evan didn’t realize he had scooted closer and pressed his mouth to Connor’s knuckles until the other’s breath faltered and he continued, “It didn’t land. I think he noticed what he was doing halfway through, but I’d ducked anyway. I was fucking shook, obviously, like, what the _fuck?_ I’m getting better, and he fucking _knows_ I am, I’m making some kind of goddamn _effort_ and he goes and he—he acts as if I’m not even—like I’m no _different_ than I was. Because, fine,” he still wasn’t looking at Evan, but his voice was going tighter and his cheeks were blotching up, “fine, I’ll take being second-rate to my sister, I’ll never be as successful or as good as her; I’ll take having him see me as the disappointment, the first pancake all my life, but I still deserve some fucking _credit_ for _trying_ , and—“

Evan curled closer, wrapping his free arm around Connor’s waist so his forehead was against his temple.

“He didn’t say he was sorry, Evan,” Connor turned his head, visibly holding back his anger, “just left. I was trying to calm down and the rubber band snapped.” He held up his wrist for Evan to see, “I went to the bathroom to get another one. I wasn’t thinking.”

“But you stopped,” Evan said, working hard to keep his tone neutral. “What made you stop?”

Connor looked at him then. He stared. Blinked slowly.

Evan kind of really wanted to kiss him ~~until the sun burned out~~ , but right now was obviously not the time. He was pretty sure his hand was starting to get sweaty, and his ears were hot.

Connor sighed, adjusting to lay on his side again and throwing his arm over Evan’s shoulder, “I was trying to remember where Zoe had put the bandages, I barely even… When I felt it, when I actually got my goddamn head back on… I thought about that breathing thing you do to calm down. I snuck out to get some fresh air or whatever but that didn’t do shit. I started climbing back up and I remembered your tree.”

He motioned with his head at the window, as if Evan didn’t know. It wasn’t actually _his_ tree, of course, since he lived in an apartment complex, but Connor insisted it was there for him specifically, and all the other tenants could go to hell if they said otherwise.

(“They don’t, though.” “Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause they’re all dumbasses that don’t prioritize Mother Nature.”)

“I ran over here. I sat on that branch and tried it again because when we’re up there, the bad stuff can’t reach me. So I’m thinking it’s the height, right? Well the motherfuckers invested in ladders or some shit, ‘cause there I am still thinking of the fucking bathroom.” His frown softened a bit and he paused, smoothing the hair at the back of Evan’s neck down.

“I realized I was only calm ‘cause every other time I was up there,” he poked Evan’s side with their intertwined hands, “and you can’t repeat this shit to anybody, okay? I haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep in days and it’s clouding my judgment.”

Evan refrained from inquiring when exactly Connor _acquired_ this judgment because his brain was in a totally different place.

“Alright, sure,” he said instead.

Connor pulled him closer, speaking into his collarbone, “Every other time I was up there you were there too, and that’s lame as fuck, like I can’t control myself when you’re not around. But when we talk—when you talk to me— it’s different.” High key _Olympic layout_ , very, very high key _,_ “Before I would listen to music or watch a movie but it would just kind of… put it off. I’d still go and do it later.

“I— take everything I say as complete bullshit at this point—I feel right. Even when it’s not just you, even when it’s you and Kleinman arguing about the PowerPoint, or Alana complaining you got the wrong dimensions for the flashcards, it’s _right_. You all talk to me about yourselves and let me do the same.

“The thing is, my parents, they don’t care what I do anymore. They ignore everything to try and pretend like there’s nothing wrong, but you guys don’t. You call me out. You care.”

Which brought back the snap memory of Evan yelling at him five minutes ago. He could _not_ be referring to that.

But Evan understood what he meant, been through the same thing at the start of senior year. He wasn’t about to start making it about himself (since he was working on not doing that anymore), ghosting his hand up and down Connor’s back, stifling the stupid smile threatening his face, “Yeah. Yeah, of course we do, Connor. I mean, I can’t speak for Jared—“

“Right, no,” he moved his head to hook his chin over Evan’s shoulder, “never mind. Scratch that, Kleinman gets no credit."

“I thought maybe I heard you say he counted earlier, and since my perception skills are motherfuckin’ supernatural, I mean—“

“I regret everything,” he laid back so Evan could see him roll his eyes, “forget me ever coming back to your house at 2 am.”

That persistent little bug in Evan’s mind was itching to butt in but Evan was really aiming for an uninterrupted conversation here, “But what will I do without your joyful presence?”

“Die sexually deprived and boyfriend-less,” he snickered, “unless Kleinman suddenly decides you’re his type and—“

“—I will be respectfully _declining_ because I saw him eat a Snickers bar last month from a Halloween party we had in second grade.”

Connor stuck his nose up, “Are you saying if you saw _me_ —“

“In a heartbeat.”

“Are you implying I’m equal to,” he had a to the T impression of Jared’s voice, “the Insane Pain in the Ass, Jared Kleinman?”

“I wouldn’t say _implying_ —“

He rolled away and threw an arm over his eyes dramatically, flapping the hand still in Evan’s in the air, “Whatever self-esteem I had left no longer exists. I come to you _broken_ , _defeated_ and share my most _inner thoughts_ —“

Evan brought him back and kissed his cheek, bringing a hand back to the side of his face, “Funny, but don’t say that.”

“Buzzkill,” Connor said, sedated. The exhaustion seemed to finally catch up to him. His eyes were dropping and it was all—the domesticity was overwhelming.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” because who needed filters at 2 am, “and I know you told me I didn’t have to ask, but I feel like I do in this moment.”

Connor lolled his head in Evan’s direction, raising an eyebrow, “Y’ still don’t.”

“Yeah,” his cheeks flushed, “sorr—“

And Evan grossly underestimated Connor’s ability to wake the fuck up ‘cause the front of his hoodie was suddenly seized and everything was so _warm_.

Connor still bit his lips constantly. They were all kinds of rough from it. But Evan never used the Chapstick Alana gave him, and they both never quite got the hang of the ‘noses don’t bump’ thing.

Still: one of, if not _the_ most enjoyable thing in his daily routine.

His eyes fell shut as Connor cupped the back of his neck. Their legs were still hanging off the side of the bed until Connor scooted up, curling one leg behind Evan’s thigh to bring him closer. Which felt, and Evan’s been working on talking about his feelings, here, freaking amazing.

Connor made a noise that resonated down Evan’s chest, and, wow, suddenly Evan’s back hit the mattress and Connor’s knees were bracketing his hips. He gasped, moving his hand up into Connor’s hair.

He smiled, completely disruptive, but Evan honestly couldn’t give less shits. That smile trailed down to his jaw, open-mouthed kisses following. Evan couldn’t deal with it after a hot second and pulled him back up to shove their mouths together,

The sheets shuffled under them, the only sound Evan could register that wasn’t Connor’s heartbeat.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when things actually started getting heavy (and at least five hickeys were distributed between the two of them), that Evan took Connor’s face in his hands to pull away, “I—We should stop.”

Connor nodded, but gave no sign he was moving.

“It’s just—you know my mom’s okay with you sleeping here, but—“

“You don’t have to tell me why, Evan, it’s your choice. We’ll steal whatever hours of sleep we can pick up at this point.”

Evan was vaguely aware of the gust of warm air coming into the room. He relaxed into the bed and tugged a piece of Connor’s hair, “Should probably close the window before going to sleep.”

“Ev _an_ —“

He gently combed through the spot he’d pulled, dropping a kiss on it, “Please?”

Connor glared at him not even quarter-heartedly, getting up and attempting to slam the window down, but it slowed automatically, rendering his efforts futile. Evan choked down a laugh and Connor mocked him, falling back on the bed so Evan could rest his head on his shoulder.

“You’re a huge dickhead, you know that?” He was starting to slur his words, wrapping an arm under Evan, “You fool people into thinking you’re this innocent lil nerd type, when you’re really a huge asswipe that makes his boyfriends personal slaves.

Evan hummed his content, “Yeah, but I’m a huge dickhead/asswipe that cares about you. So _much_ ,” he craned his neck to kiss Connor’s neck, “that you’ll never forget it, alright?”

“Nah,” he pulled the blanket higher over them, “no, don’t think I will. ‘Cause I care a lot about you, too.”

And the ramble of voices in his head were quiet, if even for a second.

Evan fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments & Kudos always, always appreciated! Feed my tiny ego! I might be doing a small series of one-shots based off prompts, so feel free to comment or drop a suggestion at my [tumblr!](https://sin-is-on-the-agenda.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank ya'll <3


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